


Coyote Tails

by Coyote_Wrangler



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, Short
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:42:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25927594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coyote_Wrangler/pseuds/Coyote_Wrangler
Summary: These are a collection of my short stories I've written over the years.
Kudos: 1





	1. Desert

Old grey eyes stare upwards in longing; the brown coat hides the desert on him; his round ears ever listening for a guest. Looking, he waits for the beauty he fell in love with from his youth. The night shadows him from prying eyes, as he waits for his beauty to arrive.

His first glimpse of his love has left an ever lasting mark. He made an oath to return and wait for the beautiful to return once more. This love is not of another, but one of captive astonishment. The beauty he seeks yearly, lies upon a painful guardian in the desert. The white petals blooming in the colorless night.

His love, oh how he longs for its return. This desert flower, seen by few, yet loved by many; this coyote, loved by few, yet seen by many. How could an affection to this flower be so strong. Perhaps he sees that it is unique in blooming yearly. He cannot have the flower for he would hurt himself trying to take what is not his, yet he longs to have it.

An owl screeches to his right, another friend who wishes to witness this bloom. Both keep constant watch waiting for this display of hope. Hope that life will continue to thrive, hope that tomorrow will be better, and hope that the night is beautiful. The coyote tilts his head in the breeze as the cactus waves its gentle greeting to the two friends.

The thorny giant groans in waking before the spectacle of the night begins. The bloom begins. The coyote, with eager eyes, watches as the bud shyly reveals its beautiful colors. The desert, a land so barren; so dead; so peaceful, is filled with magic. The white flower faintly hides behind its outer shell as it knows it's being watched. The night sky seems to brighten as this flower reveals itself to the world for one night until it fades again.

Lying his head down, the coyote whimpers in sheer delight as the night continues. His heart pounds with infatuation. He feels not grief, starvation, or loneliness any longer; instead he feels joy, love, and pride. He has had a long life of pain, but he has found something to love.

The flower continues to slowly show its true self to the onlookers in fear of being hurt, yet it cautiously begins to trust the outer world. One by one, a petal reveals its true color. Pure white, the color of bliss and innocence. The cacti below the beauty form a protective wall from most ground dwelling creatures from having it. The sharp exterior protecting its most vulnerable self.

The coyote watches in delight as the bloom is nearly finished; the night is nearly finished. The flapping of wings get closer as a bat approaches to suckle upon the sweet nectar of the flower. The coyote looks away from the display, jealous, and fearful this may be his last year to witness the spectacle before him. Pushing past the jealousy, he watches the bat nuzzle its face into the bloom and then fly away. He is thankful that he gets to witness this moment one more time. Another year complete, a new dawn in the barren desert. The beautiful flower he waited for all night, begins to wilt in the increasing heat. Perhaps he shall lay there, and die beside his love. Closing his eyes again, the flower falls to the ground, and floats towards him. Holding the wilted bloom close to his neck, he gives up. He has died complete. His item of admiration has chosen to be at his side for his final moments.

I wrote this to describe how I feel about someone I know. Confessed my feelings to him and got shot down. Now dating!


	2. Adopt

A puppy lies under a discarded newspaper, shivering from the cold night air. He whimpers as he attempts to call for its mother. He misses the warmth she gave him at night, he misses her tender kisses on his bruises, but what he misses most is her. She would comfort him when he was afraid, and she would always return to him. 

A mild breeze turns into a powerful wind that steals his protective newspaper. The pup is left exposed to the cold winter weather. The humans have all abandoned the city park, the lights shut off, leaving him alone and afraid. The small black pup scoots closer to the garbage bin in hopes of blocking the wind from his body. It is of no use as it seemingly comes from all angles. Freezing to his bones, the pup whines in irritation and sadness. He feels like the world is out to hurt him. 

A bark comes from across the street, it sounds like his mother. He is too cold to move, but he let’s out his own high pitched bark. A bark replies and after two nights alone, the pup feels safety fast approaching. Another bark follows, an unfamiliar one, and then another. He can barely see, but he makes out three different dogs, none of which share the body type of his mother. Growls emit from the sprinting dogs. 

With little energy the pup attempts to run across the nearby street. His little black paws carry him across the sidewalk. Their breath is on his tail, and a strong paw knocks him over. An Australian Shepherd growls pinning the pup down. His breath smells of old; rancid meat, his eyes are blue and green, and his teeth are sharp enough to tear through the pup with ease. 

Whimpering with fear, the pup attempts to crawl away. The Shepherd snarls and knocks the pup over again, claws cutting the pups hide. The pup begins to cry for his mother to protect him, but his cries are not heard by her. The Shepherd makes to lunge at the pup's head for a quick meal, but his teeth sink into another. 

A human allows the Shepherd to bite into her arm, her other arm scoops the pup away from the cold concrete, and into her warm chest. The woman twists her arm at odd angles while the Shepard continues to bite into her. The Shepherd releases to regain his grip, and the woman pulls away to give a strong affirming kick. With a growl and a whine, the Shepherd retreats into an alley with his posse. 

“You okay, little one?” the woman coddles the pup close to warm him, “Poor thing, left all alone.” 

The pup’s heart his rapidly beating as his first time being carried by a human instills more fear. This human is larger than him, and she carries him with ease. She makes strange sounds as he looks him over. She zips her jacket and places him within against her chest with two gentle arms supporting him. His paws rest on her, his eyes study this human. 

Her face holds warmth his mother shared, and she saved him from the Shepherd. Her body is warm and comfortable against his freezing; sore body. Her eyes are green like the pines; her black hair falls to her shoulders. Nuzzling into her chest, he seeks the comfort that his mother used to provide. The human rubs two fingers gently across his head, causing him to shrink in fear. Slowly she repeats this action; he begins to compare her touch to his mother’s. 

Her hands are soft and gentle as they caress between his ears. He continues to watch her in the cold night as she takes him away. Her mouth forms a smile with every step she takes. A building becomes closer with the light shining bright on its exterior. She opens the door to the building and calls out. 

“Taylor, I’m home.” She loudly declares, gently holding him, “I’d like you to meet someone.” 

A second human comes; her red hair tucked behind her head. Taylor melts seeing him snuggled against her wife’s chest. She rubs the pup’s head just as gently as the first one had. 

“It’s beautiful, Hon!” she squeals wanting to hold him, “He looks scared. What’s wrong?” 

“A group of strays attacked him. I had to step in.” his savior softly speaks sitting on a sofa, “Especially because he’s too cute.” 

The pup is placed between the humans and cowers away against the back of the sofa. He is surrounded and fears that they will attempt to harm him. His savior removes her jacket to reveal her arm the Shepherd bit. No blood trails from the appendage, but numerous holes scar the plastic arm. 

This human lays limp fingers in front of him, coaxing him to approach. He steps forward and sniffs her hand with fear and caution. She smells of nothing harmful, if anything, she smells like sweet candies often dropped by human children. Licking her hand to show he trusts her, she gives a bright; white smile. Taylor mimics the action with enthusiasm, scaring him. 

He cowers behind his savior's hand as Taylor twitches her fingers. The pup moves forward and sniffs her fingers as well. She smells of flowers. He opens his mouth to chew on a finger, hoping for something to play with. Taylor laughs as his dull teeth chew on her. 

“What do we name him?” his savior asks.


	3. War

Sprinting across a muddy field, a sleek; black stallion follows beside his brothers and sisters. The dark grey horizon, with all its sickening fun, unleashes a torrent of lead from the front. Yet, onward the stallion sprints, echoes of thundering guns yell with rage. His rider returns the thunder, lead flies back and forth between the sides. Onward to the front. 

A mare to his left screeches in fear as she falls. Her brown coat is caked in mud and blood; her rider is thrown onto no man’s land, his leg trapped underneath the dead mare. A grey stallion throws his rider and flees. Onward to the front. 

Men yell orders from the trenches ahead. His rider digs his spurs further and draws the scabbard. Lead whizzes by the black stallion, he leaps over the trench, and his hooves land on an enemy’s chest. The enemy’s chest hollows and attaches to his hooves. The slower momentum causes his legs to break. Falling, the stallion traps his rider. 

The enemy men surround him with their weapons fixed to bayonet him. His rider yells obscenities and fires his revolver. Giving a pained; fearful cry, the stallion kicks his hind legs at the enemy. His metal shoe impacts a skull, killing the recipient. His rider swears as he is down to his last bullet. The barrel is pressed against the stallions head, to save his horse from suffering, the rider pulls the trigger. At the front. 

The bullet enters his neck and lodges itself in his brain. The stallion lies still, his final view is the enemy shooting the rider. Black consumes him, his dying breath drew. His final moments at the front. 

A cream colored mare rears and stomps the man in front of her; she kicks another behind her. Her rider lies on the ground, bleeding from his stomach. Another man points his rifle at her and fires to miss her. She kicks with all her might, feeling his skull cave in, she continues to protect her rider. 

Panting, she watches for more, and nuzzles the rider. He places his blood soaked hands on her face, gently he begins to slip away. She nuzzles her rider, and closes her eyes in his caring touch. His hand falls into the mud, the screaming of an artillery shell approaches. The large explosive sends her shredded body away to die. 

Growling a German Shepherd waits for his master to remove the mask keeping him from killing the enemy. His master is in danger, and he will protect him from the one’s who wish to harm him. The final buckle is unlatched, and he runs out of the trench; into an enemy. 

Biting the arm of the attacker, the Shepard tries to disable him. His teeth sink into the man’s flesh, blood begins pouring from the man, and the dog moves forward towards the throat. The man grabs the dogs neck, his teeth inches from the soldiers face. The soldier draws his knife and thrusts the blade into the chest of the German Shepard. With a whine of agony, the dog closes his eyes. 

Running across the field of carcasses, a man carries his rifle. The smoke hiding his approach, the cries of men, dogs, and horses dying weighs heavily on him. He wants it to stop. He wishes it to end. Too many dead fighting for freedom. Too many sons dead for their countries. Too many animals killed to weaken the armies. 

He approaches a downed enemy, blood pouring from his chest. He rests a hand on a German Shepherd; in the other, a letter. He is barely breathing, another casualty in a war of greatness. The man looks up into the eyes of the man, and sees not his enemy, but another victim. A sad expression telegraphs its reason with a language of different origin. Translation is lost, but their meaning is not. 

The enemy releases his anger and hatred for the soldier, and gives the soldier his letter. His fingerprints put a coating of blood on the letter. The man stops breathing as he bleeds out in a foreign country fighting a war he was drafted into. 

Why is it that he had to die? His name forgotten, and his actions made miniscule by the victors. He gave his life for his country. Why is it that he deserves to be forgotten? Why should we forget any of them? Why do the soldiers take all the credit when the four legged infantry work even harder for nothing? We shall not forget the brave sacrifices these fearless animals gave, nor shall we forget the men who died in the bloodiest days of humanity. 

World War 1 casualties

Horses: 8,000,000   
Dogs: 1,000,000   
Soldiers: 10.8 million   
Civilians: 2,250,099


	4. Wolf Heart

He fiercely runs through the forest, the setting sun illuminating his path to a final ploy against humankind. The pain; the rage; the hate; the loneliness. He has not wronged man, not yet; neither did his family, they just were living their lives as free wolves. By the old gods, he will avenge those that man stole from him. His plot for his revenge on man is ending.

The human toddler cries from his muzzle as he runs through the thickening night air. The cold wind rustling in his warm; grey fur. The toddler continues crying for a salvation that may never come; she is lost to her species, a casualty in man's dominance of over-survival. She begins to accept the fate of becoming a lost child. She never learned to hide when the Night Beast rushed through her village killing all livestock; she never learned to stay silent when he howled his griefs to set in motion his vengeance. Why should she be executed because of fellow man's actions?

However, the wolf never had a chance to do right by his family. Why should he feel remorse, and regret for the kill of man's evil? It isn't right she is not a fair kill, not fair prey. She cannot fight back, or defend herself. Neither could his pups. La vita per una vita; omicidio per omicidio. Life for life; murder for murder. Man will pay for his sin through the blood of his kin.

The grey wolf slows to a brisk trot, and searches the terrain for humans. Cautiously, the wolf places the girl onto the ground and prepares to launch his vicious; unrelenting attack. The child cries again with renewed fear, she knows his motives for taking her away from the tribe. The wolf takes a step forward, and sniffs her to savor the scent of the overwhelming fear. Bliss.

"Please?" the girl begs the wolf.

What is he doing? He can't take the life of an innocent, he's not like them. It isn't the Way of the Forest. The wolf drops his fighting stance and sits, contempt at just staring at the spectacle before him. Man begging for his generosity in order to live. This human is nothing more than the equivalent of a pup. The human will see the light of tomorrow's dawn, and many more beyond.

The wolf is nothing like man to the girl. To her, he's the Night Beast, the animal slaughterer, the tribal chief spoke so highly of before his passing. Her father inherited the chieftain position and demanded all wolves killed to protect the tribe. How she longs to be back in her father's arms, the warm caress of his rough; calloused hand brushing her brown hair to the side.

She opens her crying eyes to an unexpected warmth upon her jaw. The grey fur welcomes her as the wolf allows himself to be within her touch. He is nuzzling her to prevent anymore sobs escaping from her, but failing. Behind a layer of flesh and muscle, sit the white daggers that could end her life. The wolf nuzzles her small head a few moments more, and pulls back to stare into her emerald green eyes; she in turn gazes into the fiery amber spectacles he owns.

The wolf nudges her with his snout, and hops backwards at her high pitched giggle. Her scent again filling his nostrils, her fear has been replaced by curiosity. The girl extends a hand, and gently strokes his furry muzzle. Memories of his mate flash through his mind as the human continues to pet him. The feeling is causing mixed emotions within him, he's scared, happy, nervous, and, above all, curious.

Her emeralds are no longer highlighted by red, but they're highlighted by the pure happiness and joy his pups used to have.

The wolf's heart radiates with the strange sense of pride as she continues to rub his snout. He has never allowed a human to touch him, but the threat of her attacking him has been defeated once her cries started. The human's hands are warm and gentle, causing him to lean deeper into the child's touch. It's too much. He can't stand to know how weakened he's become from her touch.

Stepping back, the wolf whines as her caressing hand ceases to wander his snout. She makes a sound similar to a whimper as she tries petting him again. The only one to ever touch him was his mate, but the human brought her memory forth. His want to be needed increases, he has only barely lived three full years, and now he's terrorized by his enemy.

The girl whimpers again, and hops forward on her rear with an outstretched hand. The wolf desires to be wanted and she is fueling the flame. His desire peaks and he steps closer and licks her hand, her sweet taste haunts him. The girl giggles and draws unwanted attention. The sounds of the brush bending to a large hunter. The wolf perks his ears and listens for the disturbance.

"Over here." A human hunter whispers.

The wolf now has a choice: stay and act as a domestic to be with her, or flee and live as a wolf until his dying breath. Humans have never shown mercy to his species, especially the innocent; young pups. Mass murdering until his kind is nothing, but mere shambles. The wolf looks at the giddy human child and back to the encroaching hunters.

Nuzzling the girl one last time, the wolf sprints deeper into the forest to hide from his enemy. What would his mate think, he was so close to enacting vengeance, and he fell to her touch. No, she would approve of his actions, for his morals, for his generosity. This constant battle began simply because his kind existed, and threatened to be even with man.

The girl cries as the wolf runs further away. She's too young to understand his fear, she doesn't need to know his fear. All she knows is the canine with fire and pain in his hard eyes has vanished, leaving her alone in the forest. She has no time to react to the cold; heavy hands lifting her from the ground. Her father has ruined her happiness, and terrified her friend.

Crossing her arms and staring to where the wolf vanished, she is carried by her father back to the village. Every tribal gives her a look of disappointment, they had wanted the weak child to disappear from their lives. The girl drives her face into her father's chest begins grieving the loss of her friend, whom had ran away. Her friendship was stolen, much like the wolf's family.

The wolf showed aggression to her before he decided better of himself. He had simply watched her, and allowed her to rub his snout. He was the closest thing she's had to a friend. But she doesn't notice the figure standing atop the hill.

The wolf releases his anger and displeasure into a howl. He'll no longer let mankind trounce over him without a fight. His song of aggression reaches the village where the girl is; for unbeknownst reasons, she mimics the wolf howl in her human way, setting all her heart within the song. Their songs intermingle into a beautious harmony. Humanity always takes; never rebuilding the lost, like parasites.

The wolf charges into the village alone. His eyes set on one human in particular. The girl's father places her down, and runs to save himself, leaving his blood behind. The wolf charges past the girl and pounces on her father, his salivating jaws inches from the human leader's throat. This is the one, the one who ordered his family's death.

The wolf growls and turns to the girl. He plans on taking her away from this place. Picking her up like a pup, the wolf runs further into the now rising sun with the girl. The village is at a shock, the girl showed no sign of fear when the wolf approached her. She accepted his jaws around her as he ran away. The chief lies on the ground, his daughter was stolen from his grasp.

The girl broke free of domestic life and now lives a life as a proud member of the wolf's two member pack. Years pass and the wolf grows old as the girl continues her long life of growth. She holds her mentor, and savior close as his eyes close and he draws his last breath. The growing girl tilts her head upward to the night sky and howls her song of sorrow for the wolf. The wolf died complete, he was given a second chance to raise a pup. She was his enemy's child, and he showed mercy when they didn't. He was more man than a human.

The girl places the wolf down and gently strokes his furry muzzle. To her, this wolf was her father; not the hairless bipedal apes that gave her up easily.

Are wolves that different than us? Are we any different than them? Our sole difference is the territorial borders we share. I hope this story has changed your view on the wild wolf.


	5. Skin

Picture an everyday community; that community has stores, restaurants, homes, schools, and a main street with side roads leading to businesses and places of office jobs. This community is made up of all kinds of people; some old, some young, some Black, White, Hispanic, Asian, and everything inbetween. Gay, straight, Bi, trans, man, woman, atheist, Muslim, Christian, Jewish. Nearly everyone is a person, except one. 

Now imagine an old four door sedan in the side of the road. The teal paint is faded, one of the hubcaps is missing from the left rear wheel, and one of the tires is flat. A single mother tries to change it herself, but no one will stop to help her and her children. She is late taking her kids to school, and going to work. She is still a person, nothing is wrong with her, she doesn’t deny help because she’s struggling to make progress. There’s one thing that makes people walk by without second thoughts, she and her daughters are wearing burkas, a traditional garment among Muslims. Everyone thinks she is a terrorist because of what she wears.

She has bills to pay, groceries to buy, and children to take care of, but she is labeled as different because of what she wears. The dark garment associated with terror and death is a symbol of faith to her and her kids, but no one trusts her because of the news.

“Please, sir. Miss, please, I’m late for work.” She begs with tears running down her face from humiliation and worry, “Please, my kids are late to school. Please, anyone, I’ll pay you.” 

“Get out of my country, terrorist!” Someone tells yells removing her hijab, “Even the beautiful women are terrorists.”

The children watch as their mother is labeled as all the bad things they see on television. They can’t do anything, but look away with an urge to cry.

“Please, help us. I’ll pay you.” She begs trying to get her hijab back from the one who stole it, “Please, sir.”

The man tosses the hijab on the ground and walks off. She wraps the garment around her neck and hair as someone else comes to her. They look her up and down and shake in disapproval. She is left alone on the sidewalk with her phone ringing.

“Hello?” she asks as her boss begins to berate her inability to do anything right, “I’m sorry, ma’am. Please, no. I need this job! Please, it’s not my fault. I- I understand.”

With her back against her car, she pulls her knees to her chest and begins to sob. Since arriving in this country, she has taken the brunt of racial slurs as she tries to protect her family from the real world. She and her children are denied seating in restaurants over others because of what they wear, denied equality in a land of better opportunity. She holds no hate for the country she lives in, she loves it. She has more rights here than she did across the globe. Her daughters can be taught like the other children, she can own property, and she does not need a man's approval.

“Looks like you need some help.” An old black man with a cane smiles.

“You mean you’ll help me?” she wipes her eyes, “What’s the price? Anything, and I’ll pay you.”

“Wipe the tears away, and I’ll help.” He smiles, holding onto his cane, “I know what you’re going through. Happened in ’68, when everyone was concerned about your skin color.”

“Thank you! Allah, bless you!” she happily says hugging him, “Please, tell me what to do.”

“First you have to loosen the lug nuts, going to be hard, but don’t remove them. I changed my first in '74, and I had to walk three miles to get my friend to show me.” The older man speaks with enjoyment, “Now, jack it up. Rest should be pretty easy. Take the nuts out and change tires. Let it down then tighten the nuts.”

The woman smiles as she gets her car back to driving condition. Her kids cheer as they thank the man, but before they part ways, the woman asks him a question.

“Why help me?” she asks feeling ashamed for even asking him.

“I saw a human being having trouble, I didn’t see religion, race, sex, or dress.” He speaks with honesty, “Not every Muslim is to be trusted immediately, just like any other person, but that doesn’t mean hate every Muslim. I've lived my life by giving everyone a chance. You look like a nice person, and I hope you pass this lesson to your kids, and theirs, and so on. Never judge a person if they are in trouble.”

“Thank you.” She says buckling her children up to go to school, "I will never forget your kindness."


	6. Lupus Dea Part 1

The dry ground crumbles underneath the wolf's weight as she continues her millennia long journey. Her journey has been difficult without company, or water. She is the only sentient being on a dry; desolate orb flying through nothingness. She has longed for purpose throughout her infinite life, longed for a landscape teeming with inhabitants. 

Slowing to a trot, the wolf stands before a continuous red sea of dry soil. Her world is empty of nourishment, and hydration. She has longed for someone to share this vast emptiness with. She has no one to share the rock with; no one to teach; no one to love; no one to love her, she is alone. 

Moving her tan paws forward, her lupine tail between her legs, her furry muzzle downward; her pointed ears lay flat to her skull. Year after grueling year, she has desperately searched for anything, for anyone, no matter how small. Centuries wasted, her very being had been a cruel joke. 

Lowering her body to the red soil below her, she whines, finally giving up her search. Every whine resounds around the orb, shifting the soil. Her eyes burn with the continuous sound of her loneliness, her tears now begin to form. Her body shakes causing the rock below to terraform the desolate landscape. 

The tears finally leave her eyes and begin to roll down her muzzle to her large dusty paws. The bitter tears of loneliness burst upon impact, sending the liquid around the globe to form sweet pools of hydration. The red rock begins to alter, dampening with her tears. 

Her shakes become more violent, sending her tan fur across the lands untouched by water. The strands of fur implant within the soil, becoming hardened and increasing its size, others change to green as they absorb the water. The fur looms overhead, beginning to branch out with green upon it. 

The world becomes almost liquified as it rises to peaks and forms valleys. Her violent shakes settle with her looking at the now green terraformed land surrounding her. She stands, and approaches the new land and, now, life. Life which she is unsure of where it came from. Should she fear it, or should she investigate it? Leaving behind an imprint, she trots carefully through the landscape she has inadvertently created. 

Her imprint is flooded with water as her body heat forms a shell around the liquid. The water turns red and solidifies into muscles that become covered in skin and fur. A copy of her body stands, but unlike her, it is grey and very, very different. It begins to follow her through the green forests of Nekt. 

The she-wolf is stunned by her new environment. The sky is no longer dark, it is turning a light blue with puffy objects floating lazily. The greenery towers over her with peace. She stops her trotting to return to the origin of all of the new life. As she turns her direction, she comes face to face with a grey one. They watch her with blue eyes, studying her to determine who she is. 

The grey stranger bows its head as its tail wags in eagerness. They slightly look up to the she-wolf as she inspects them. She circles the stranger to study who they are, but she detects nothing other than a new appendage. The stranger is her opposite, they are a He. He raises from his bow, and nuzzles her in happiness at his life. She jumps away from his touch for fear of... him. 

He whimpers with his body releasing a snarl. An unknown sound for either of them. She approaches him cautiously and prods his side with her snout. The sound snarls at both of them, causing the two to flee. The grey stranger looks over his shoulder to see where the snarl is coming from, while neglecting his movements. He runs into a towering tree, causing it to shatter into hundreds of fragments that fall. 

She comes to his side, stepping on fragments; pushing them into the ground. The broken tree fragments begin to expand and grow larger than either wolf. Liquid rushes into the enlarging fragments, forming five extending bumps upon the fragment. Four bumps lay underneath, one sits on top towards either end. A skittish beast stands beside them with more following, each differing in gender, size, and coloration. 

The grey stranger sniffs the beasts, and has an uncontrollable urge to attack one. He growls and chases it with the she-wolf curiously watching the new beasts and the stranger. Is there a method to his instant madness? Is he simply chasing the beasts? Maybe he is trying to play a game with them. 

The she-wolf follows at a distance and waits for the game to end. To her surprise, the stranger has killed one of the beasts. His teeth tear into its flesh, and pieces of the beast vanish down his throat. He glances towards her, and continues gnawing on the dead beast. The she-wolf closes her amber eyes to piece together what has transpired. 

A whine causes her to open her eyes. Standing before her is the stranger with a red piece of the beast between his jaws. He places it at her paws, and gently licks her tan muzzle. He is strange to her, she is unsure of his intentions, but knows he wants her to do something; possibly with the red piece of the beast. 

Looking between the beast piece and he, she cocks her head in confusion. The stranger bites the beast flesh with his snout pointing for her to mimic his action. She lowers her head to the flesh, and lightly sniffs it. The scent is exotic and different; yet so delicious to her. Biting the flesh, red liquid pours across her tongue, causing a vocalization of pleasure to exit her. The stranger tears the flesh apart and quickly swallows it, the she-wolf watches; attempts to mimic, and feels the flesh travel down her throat to her belly. 

The grey stranger nuzzles her with happiness, as she gazes into his blue eyes with confusion. She barks and runs into the infinite forest. The stranger yips and chases her with glee. Both continue this playing for hours, until the sky changes to a new shade. 

The once blue sky is now purple with bright lights flickering across the vast sky. Both the she-wolf and the stranger lay on their backs with eyes studying the new setting. The stranger stealthily rolls to his paws and carefully stands to be over the she-wolf. She is caught studying his face, again, until she remembers what he had done earlier. She raises her head and licks the side of his muzzle, once, causing a yelp of surprise from him. The grey stranger returns the gesture with a continuous stream of well-timed licks. 

Perhaps her life has meaning now that the stranger is with her. Perhaps she has always been able to achieve this, but never has. Why has it suddenly become like this? Who is the stranger? Should she be concerned? Surely she has nothing to fear with the stranger by her side.


	7. Lupus Dea Part 2

Risen from the mud, a new creature follows its creator. On two legs it walks, lacking fur and feather upon its nude body. Confidently, the creature strides after the she-wolf without fear. It’s eyes study the world full of love with a curious mindset. Why was it created? Does it have a purpose? 

The she-wolf, creator of life, heads to one of the many rivers she has dug. The grey one watches from a distance. Peace surrounds them. Pangs of loneliness come rarely, but painfully, after their spites. He wishes for more of their kind, but she does not know how she created him, nor how to create more.   
She bows her head to drink the cool; refreshing water. She feels contempt for her friend, and then guilt. If not for him, who would she have to share this world with? She feels something other than the grey stranger watching her. 

Turning to investigate, a bipedal form of life studies her. More follow the first and surround her, their expressions are blank, and they have no language. She backs into the water, the creatures follow. Skin of differing colors is soaked; their sizes differ. 

Cocking her head, she studies this life. They too study her further. Eyes curiously analyze every limb and muscle. A cry of strange origins startle her. A creature smaller than all is held by the female of this life. 

Fascinated, she hops in the water, splashing them, in hopes they will play. Their tongue take an unknown form with strange sounds. Their throats rasp out sounds that should not exist. With her tail wagging, the she-wolf barks for her friend to inspect the new life. 

“Unitsi.” One of the creatures rasp with a strange movement of its mouth. 

As her friend approaches, it rasps again, “Adadoda.” 

He is curious on how they must taste, perhaps they are edible. Licking one of their hands, he is repulsed by its taste. The creatures shiver as a wind blows across the land. They do not have protection from the elements. Unitsi lies beside the smallest of the creatures, and allows them to snuggle against her fur. Her friend mimics the action and allows others to sleep against him. The strongest gather stones and begin to travel into the forest, only females are left behind with the smaller ones. 

Adadoda watches as the females gather parts of the plants and sample what they have picked. An odd way to earn a meal. Perhaps the males will return with more plants to feast upon. He focuses back on his creator, she had begun to play with the small ones. Her paws tap lightly across the ground in joy. 

Adadoda is jealous of the attention they have stolen. Giving a whine, he gains her attention. Trotting to him, he gives her a lick and pleading eyes to stay. She nuzzles him and returns to play with the creatures. She enjoys these new lives, perhaps he can make better. She’ll have to be with him then. 

Rising, he trots to a secluded area of forest and begins moving boulders into piles. Fallen sticks go upon the lifeless rocks, he must win her back. A feeling of betrayal lies in his chest; anger follows as his spit falls on the faux creations. Could he truly be jealous over a new life they barely studied. Regret, sadness, and shame befall him. 

He leaves his creations and returns to her. The creations begin to breath. One stands over all with black fur. Another moves with grace and finesse. Eyes narrowed, they let out a low growl. The large creature roars, startling Unitsi and Adadoda. 

The male creations return with two of the skittish creatures. Another grabs wood and begins to rub them together until nearly sunset. An amber flower of heat is born from the wood. The wolves cower back for the amber flower should not be conjured. 

“Sidanelv.” One of her creatures whisper, petting her head, “Duldinave.” 

She closes her eyes and rests, she feels as if she belongs. Adadoda feels the need to apologize to her. How could he expect her to forgive him for trying to better her creations? Is there anything he could do to make it up? Adadoda steps towards her and nuzzles her, tear lying in his eye. He doesn’t want her to hate him. Unitsi, confused, watches him pant with guilt. With a tender lick on his snout, she trots to the river with an idea. He had an interest in the swimming life, perhaps one of these swimming creatures could show she does not harbor hatred. 

Adadoda sits with the Aniyvwi. He begins to worry about Unitsi as the moon has now risen to its peak and she is still gone. Following her scent to the river, he sees her lying on the shore, asleep. Her steady breathing assures him that she is safe. He begins to return to the two-legged life. Her whimper of fear forces him to stop. 

She looks to him with pleading eyes, wanting him to stay. He wants to leave, but he can’t bring himself to hurt her anymore than he does. Coming to her side, he lays his head across her neck in a protective manner. She never wants to be alone again.


End file.
